


It’s always morning somewhere on the Earth

by hisaribi



Series: ships and characters weeks 2017-2019 [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, BAMF Peter Hale, BAMF Stiles, Fights, Gen, Gun Violence, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder Husbands, Pre-Slash, Spies & Secret Agents, everyone is human
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 16:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16178765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisaribi/pseuds/hisaribi
Summary: “Curra(nt)-coffee” was a small coffee shop somewhere between two metro stations. Stiles worked there, and Peter usually came there for the information.





	It’s always morning somewhere on the Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Happy steter bingo you all! Amazing [SpookyMiscreant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyMiscreant) beta-read this! Give her all the love! Also lovely [Dragonslayer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonslayer/pseuds/Dragonslayer)   
>  helped as well!  
> So I took General tropes, and for now I have it [like this](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DobpOerWwAI0ohR.jpg). I'm going to blackout it! For now, I have one more fic ready, and I hope to post it this week as well!

“Curra(nt)-coffee” was a small coffee shop somewhere between two metro stations. It wasn’t ever really crowded, because there weren’t a lot of universities or offices in the area. It seemed like this was the worst place for the coffee shop, but, somehow, it was still open and afloat.

Probably it had to do a lot with the fact that it was more of place to get information. Peter opened the door, the nice smell of the cinnamon and pleasant electro music greeted him. Stiles looked up from his phone and smiled a little. He put it in his pocket and stood up.

Stiles looked young, just like most of the baristas were, though it was a great lie. This guy was the best informant in this city, and he probably was older than 25.

“Good morning, Sir,” he said, sounding like they hadn’t met every once in a while when he worked as a liaison to the center.

“Morning?” Peter asked, gazing over two men, sitting on the table. Probably, they were the reason Stiles acted like that. The looked suspicious, and years working in the agency did a lot to peak Peter’s worry. “It’s almost two PM.”

“It’s always morning somewhere on the Earth,” Stiles shrugged. “That’s why we work 24 hours a day.”

Peter also knew it. As far as he was aware, there were only a handful of hours Stiles had, and it was the only time somebody could get information. Any other time and there would only be some random kids, who didn’t know a thing. Well, as far as Peter knew anyway. He wouldn’t be surprised if every person who worked there had their own client base for information. And, maybe, one or two people who were really oblivious just in case.

“Sounds about right,” Peter nodded. “The latte, please.”

That was their common code for information. You couldn’t come there just asking for information, first, you need to make a request. They gave the information inside the coffee in a sort of the second bottom, where a flash card lied.

“Sure,” Stiles nodded and turned to the coffee machine.

Peter leaned against the counter and looked around. He caught one of the men looking at him. Well, that gave him bad vibes. Peter felt the hair on the back of his neck raise. He lowered his hand closer to his gun holster.

As with any violence, everything happened fast. Someone entered the coffee shop, The quick sound of the shutter. Peter noticed Stiles quickly ducked behind the counter, right before the bullet shot through the coffee machine. 

Peter took his gun off and shot the person, who had just entered, right between the eyes. Next, he kicked the chair nearby to the counter toward the guys behind him, who definitely tried to take their guns out and shoot Peter. The chair distracted them long enough, that Peter managed to get closer and shoot them, one in the ribcage, another in the neck. He had to break the hand of the one with the hole in the chest, because he wasn’t going to just die, and was still planning on attacking Peter.

The door jiggled once again, now there were three more of them. Peter flipped the table and hid behind it, he was really glad, that this coffee shop had bulletproof furniture. The first wave calmed down quickly, Peter could tell that they moved closer. Well, that was their mistake. He lifted the table and threw it directly at them, and ran closer. 

He shot one of them in the leg and he went down screaming. Another got three bullets in this chest. Peter’s gun felt uncomfortably light like it didn’t have any more bullets, which turned out to be true because the fourth shot didn’t spill anymore. He dropped the gun.

The third gunman tried to shot Peter, having the pistol right in front of his face, but Peter moved the gunman’s hand, so the bullet pierced the head of the second man. Peter twisted his hand, so the gunman had to let go of the pistol. The pistol wasn’t the only weapon on him, so almost out of nowhere he pulled a knife and tried to stab Peter between the ribs. 

Well, that was interesting, but knife fights were one of the reasons Peter was still alive, and this brat was still not even close to Peter’s level. So he easily twisted knife out of the gunman’s grasp, grabbed it himself and stabbed the brat in the chin from below.

 He bubbled blood and fell down convulsing.

One more sound of the shutter and Peter looked toward the first one, who only got shot in the leg. He stood awkwardly and had his aim to Peter, he haltingly thought what to do, when one more shot sounded. 

Peter lowkey thought he was shot and just didn’t feel pain yet, but the guy in front of him fell down, just like a puppet. 

“Bloody punks,” Stiles said, standing up with the gun in his hands. 

“You could’ve helped me more,” Peter noted. 

“You did well by yourself,” Stiles shrugged and took the phone from the pocket. “Anyway, do you know them?” 

“I don’t think so.” 

Stiles hummed thoughtfully and wrote something on the phone. Windows near the wall that led to the street closed by blinds, the one on the glass door as well. 

“Would you be so kind,” Stiles said, “Bring the one who is in the door inside.” He didn’t even look at Peter from the phone screen. 

“Why should I?” 

“Because you killed him, he is your trash, and our main rule is to pick up your own trash. Also, I’m contacting the agency.” 

Peter grumbled but came to the door to take the corpse fully inside. 

“This place is compromised, which is a shame. I liked it here.” Stiles sighed. “I wonder if they tried to deal with you or this place.” 

“They tried to shoot you first, so, I guess, both.” 

Stiles hummed and put the phone down, then went around the counter and sat near the one who he shot, trying to find ID, or money, or something. Peter did the same with the closest corpse. They searched them all but didn’t find anything. Stiles also looked through all the places the first two touched but didn’t find anything, then went back behind the counter and took his phone, more out of some nervous energy, than the actual need to do anything. 

“You are a good shot,” Peter said to break the silence and leaned against the counter. Well, the silence wasn’t exactly true, music was still playing. 

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded after a tad too long pause. 

“Did you think of working more as an agent?” Peter earnestly asked. 

“Nah, too much blood. Espionage is more much interesting.” 

“Yeah, and that sure does have less blood,” Peter chuckled, looking down at filled with blood and bodies floor. 

“Usually yes, but you are a spanner,” Stiles shrugged and also leaned to the counter. 

“Oh, I’m flattered,” Peter grinned, even though it wasn’t anything flattering in there. 

“Well, you are almost a pensioner by now,” Stiles shrugged. 

“I’m only forty-seven, and men just like the good wine become better with age, anyway, this case was supposed to be my last...” Peter paused and looked at the corpses. 

It was supposed to be his last case, and then off he’d go, but being killed during the last case was quite poetic and ironic. Stiles smiled at him with A little bit sad and wistful smile.

“You knew, didn’t you?” 

“I’ve gathered as soon as the first two came in, that they were going to attack someone. Though, being killed in your last case, wouldn’t that be ironic?” 

Peter sighed and took Stiles’ hand in his. He traced slim knuckles as if writing words on his hand. ‘Are we sure it wasn’t the agency who set this up?’ 

Stiles shook his head. 

Peter sighed. Yeah, that’s what he feared of. ‘Do you want to run away with me?’

 Stiles looked at him a little bit squinting. Then he licked lips and answered at Peter’s hand. ‘You know there is no such thing as a former spy or agent. Either dead or still in the business.’ 

That rang truth. Peter wondered how Stiles even got into this in the first place. 

“Come on, You need to wash after all this, you are all bloody,” Stiles left the phone on the counter and tugged Peter to the back door. As soon as he got there, Stiles closed the door. He held the knob for a little. 

“Do you want to say something?” Peter asked, standing in front of the mirror. He was really bloody, and, because he didn’t have any spare clothes, he decided to just wash hands and face. 

“Nah,” Stiles traced Peter’s body with his eyes. “Just wondering what you want to do after this whole thing.” 

“Hmm,” Peter hummed. He did know what he wanted, but at the same time, he didn’t feel like telling this to Stiles. They weren’t really close anyway, and this question even seemed a little bit alien. “I’m not sure yet. Probably, leave the city first. What, wanna go with me?” 

Stiles didn’t outright decline. The phone in the counter ringed and Stiles left the bathroom to take it. 

Peter followed him with a gaze, then shook his head and went back to washing. 

This was a crazy ‘morning’, and he had a lot to think of.


End file.
